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124                            LETTERS   FROM   THE

the tall opera-dancer. He placed her there on a
great day, when Mrs. Monro, the American am-
bassadress, and other modest ladies, dined with
him. As soon as their husbands apprised them
of it, they left the company.

The Directory, who have an interest in the
opera, regularly carry off all the cash taken at the

Madame de Maulde was with me this morning";
she is well and sprightly, has saved her landed
property and lost what she placed out. Madame
d'Anglures is in possession of her estates, and
lives quietly upon them.

I do not know whether you heard at the time
that the day of the King's execution was as dark
as pitch, quite overcast and black, without wind
or cloud, and not a sound in the streets until the
guns were fired. That on which the Queen died
was as fine as possible, and no one seemed to
care a halfpenny. This is only accounted for by
the different seasons of the year, and the habits
contracted from seeing so much bloodshed. I
have also been desired to note that it was exactly
fifty days from Robespierre's making his harangue
from the throne in the Tuileries, and declaring
that there was a Supreme Being, to the day of
his death, which corresponds with the cinquant-